Global Desire
by N.S.L. Jewelles
Summary: In this, the sequel to DriedUp Roses, the details of Erik and Christine's eightyear tour of the land from Persia to Paris. Rated for later chapters. EC WIP
1. Prologue The Beginning

**After much consideration, deliberation, and beating myself up over it, I have decided to write the "companion" novel to _Dried-Up Roses_, the details of Erik and Christine's eight-year travel from Persia to Paris. I've had so many ideas for it over the last week or so that I just had to start it and it finally came together. So here we go…_Global Desire_.**

_**Global Desire**_

_The Companion to Dried-Up Roses_

_**Prologue – The Beginning**_

_Persia 1875_

Christine has drifted off to sleep, content to simply dream the night away. I, however, can do no such thing. So much has happened that I find it hard to even lie still, let alone close my eyes and let somnolence take me. A cool gust of wind passes through the open window every few minutes, sweeping its chill across the room like a spell, casting a breath of cold on my deformed cheek and on the exposed skin of my neck and chest, and on Christine's bare back. As she sleeps, I breathe in the scent of her hair, dark curls cascading around her face and neck like a frame, lying in tangles upon my shoulder where her head rests. I am so very aware of her breathing, of the life in her, and of the feeling of her skin touching my own, like if I let go of that feeling all of this will evaporate as if it never happened; I still doubt whether or not it did.

_Do not dwell on the past; think of your future. Think of your future together._ The world; she wants to see the world, and who am I to deny her anything? After all we've been through, after all that has happened, there is nothing I want more than to simply be by her side, wherever that may be, and I promised her such. As much as I am still willing to conceive that this is all a cruel dream of mine I cannot help but think about what it will be like to be by Christine's side, forever and always, not as a demon of the past or a fearsome apparition but as her friend and lover.

_Lover._ The word hits me like a splash of cold water to the face; am I really now her lover? However much I have wanted it, I did not ever believe that it would come to pass, and now that it has…fear takes me suddenly. I have never even imagined that I would ever be a woman's lover, not with my history and my looks. What does she expect of me? What am I to do for her?

I realize that I've been breathing rather heavily from these realizations when I feel Christine stir beside me. "Erik," she murmurs, her voice hoarse from sleep, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing, _mon ange_," I say gently, trying to calm my own heart rate. "Go back to sleep." Christine presses her lips softly to my neck before nestling herself back between my body and the sheets and dozing off. I run my hand soothingly along her back, caressing her skin until I am sure that she is sleeping. Dawn is not far off; soon enough she will awaken once more and the day will begin, far different than those preceding it.

Maybe this will not be so different for me. Have I not doted upon Christine since the moment I began her singing lessons near fifteen years ago? Were my intentions not those of a lover's for at least half of that? This new relationship, this new beginning…is it not all that different than what came before it?

My eyes finally close in sleep. Yes, this new day will be no different, but it will be far better.

2


	2. News of the Angel and Devil

**I've taken to waiting for my reviewers to return…le sigh. I don't particularly adore this chapter, but enjoy it anyway.**

_**Chapter One – News of the Angel and Devil**_

_Persia 1875_

**Christine**

I feel myself waking up and yet I do not want to give in to it, not just yet. I can sense that the morning is warm and dry, as all mornings are here, but not much more than that.

Still fighting to keep my eyes shut tight, I move a little and feel skin-on-skin contact, my shoulders, breasts, neck, arms and face all touching another's skin, warm and beaten. I finally let my eyes open and brush away the few strands of hair in my face, shifting a little so I can see.

I smile; Erik sleeps soundly, a departure for him, beside me, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, his hair, hairpiece and all, tousled and messy.

Trying not to wake him, I disengage from the tangle of our arms and bodies, rising up to a sitting position and then turning to leave the warm and comfortable bed. Knowing that I cannot possibly run through the whole of the house to my room without a piece of clothing on my body, I rummage around in the drawers of Erik's room until I find a silk robe that will adequately cover me.

Just as I am tying it, I hear Erik waking up, the sheets rustling as he moves. I turn to face him and I see his eyes light up, the gray-green glow in them turning to a fire. "Good morning," I say calmly but happily, walking to the mattress and sitting upon it, my legs hanging off of the side.

Erik says nothing, just gives me a look of love and appreciation, and I reach my hand out, placing it upon his perfect cheek and run my fingers along his skin softly.

We sit there in amicable silence, small grins on each of our faces, until there is sound from outside, a sharp rap on the door. "Erik?"

"What is it, Reza?" Erik calls back gliding effortlessly from the bed and finding his pants in a pile on the floor. Quietly, so only I can hear, he whispers, "Christine, where's my mask?"

"My father wants to speak to you," Reza says in response as I look around on the floor for Erik's signature white mask that I'd thrown to the floor the previous night.

"Oh, hell with it," Erik states firmly, his voice tinged with agitation. "I'll be right there, Reza!" Grabbing his black mask from atop the chest of drawers, he hastily kisses me on the cheek before grabbing his shirt from a chair and hurrying out the door.

**Erik**

"What happened last night?" Nadir asks me, his voice threaded with mockery. Adamantly ignoring him, something that I'm usually not one to try, I pour myself a cup of tea and drink it standing up, facing away from Nadir. "Erik, really, I won't get angry with you if I find out you're using my guest room as a home for your sexual escapades with Christine."

"You are one hell of a pain in my ass, do you know that?" I growl at him. The Daroga chuckles.

"Are you saying that now that you've finally got Christine in your bed I can't be happy for you?" I whirl around and stalk towards him.

"It's not like that, Daroga," my voice is sharp and firm. "She is not like that and neither am I; this you know." How dare he accuse me of merely wanting to bed Christine and nothing more? It's ludicrous, unheard of, and the last thing I would ever do to Christine.

"I'm just trying to be excited for you, Erik," Nadir says, rising from the table to place a friendly hand on my arm. "I know how much you've wanted this."

"Who's to say anything happened?" I snap, still agitated and offended. "It's none of your goddamn business what happens between the two of us so you might as well just piss off." I stalk off, but the ever-persistent Nadir follows anyway.

"Erik, what's bothering you?" he says as I sit down on one of the chairs on the deck, facing away from him. "You seem so coarse; I want to help, and I'm sure that Reza and Christine would too if they were here. Tell an old friend what's bothering you." I turn and give Nadir a fearsome look, anger boiling over.

"It's none of your bloody business, Daroga! God damn!" Smashing the cup of tea on the floor I stride into the house and nearly crash headlong into Christine.

**Christine**

Erik grabs my shoulders to keep himself from running into me and throwing us to the floor with momentum. We stand there for a moment in awkward silence until I speak up softly, "Erik? Is everything all right?" Erik's penetrating green eyes catch my own brown ones for a long moment before he pushes past me and storms off down the hall.

I wrap my arms around myself and feel my body trembling until a comforting pair of arms comes around me from the back. "There, there," the Daroga says gently, turning me around and looking me straight in the eye. "He'll come to his senses in due time."

"Nadir, I'm…I'm worried for him," I admit. "He was just fine until he left me this morning and now…I haven't seen him like this since…since…" I can barely say anything. "I haven't seen him like this for well over a month now, Nadir, and I'm scared that he'll hurt himself or one of us."

The Daroga's face fills with concern. "I do not put self-injury past him, Christine, but he wouldn't lay a hand on any of us, especially you. You are his sun and moon and no matter what he could never hurt you." I turn and look down the hall towards Erik's room, seeing the closed door and shuddering.

Silently I walk away from the Daroga and towards the door, opening it quietly and stepping inside, to see Erik sitting on the opposite side of the bed from the door, head in his hands. Closing the door behind me I hurry to him, sitting down beside him and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Erik, talk to me. I'm right here for you." When he does not respond I place both of my hands on his wrists and pull his hands away from his face. "Please, Erik. I want to help."

Erik turns to face me, his back still hunched over, and looks into my eyes with his, full of some unknown sadness. I just look at him, and he looks at me, our gazes locked.

In a split second, the mood changes, and Erik grabs me full-force, pulling me against him, holding me like I'll disappear if he lets go. I wrap my arms around his chest and place my head on his shoulder, letting him hold me. "Oh, Christine," he murmurs into my hair, burying his face against my shoulder. "Oh, Christine."

"Erik, tell me what's wrong," I say gently, moving away and placing a hand on his cheek, the black leather of his mask soft and warm. "I cannot help unless you talk to me." Leaning in closer, I press my lips against his, as if it will transfer my need to help into him.

When I pull away, I see Erik's eyes are closed. "Tell me that you love me," he says softly, his voice barely a whisper.

"I love you," I affirm, "and I want to know how I can help you."

"I don't know what it is," Erik states quietly. "I'm so afraid that if I let things change after last night that I'll lose you." I bite my lip and rest my hand on Erik's knee for stability. "After all of this time…"

"Hush," my voice is calm and strong as I place a finger to his lips. "I feel it too. But things don't have to be different now. Nothing has changed." Erik looks at me incredulously. "I think I've come to realize," I say, my voice wavering a little, "that this hasn't just happened. I think…" I trail off, collecting myself. "I think that I have always loved you, whether it was childish fantasy or true adult love. I told you so last night and it was true. Ever since I left you that night...oh, it was so many years ago now, wasn't it?"

"We don't have to talk about that, Christine," Erik states firmly, sounding more than a little irate.

"But we do," I counter him. "We need to come to an understanding." Standing up, I turn and kneel down in front of Erik, looking up into his face. "You're afraid that things will change too much, and so am I, but if we continue to cover the past up like it never happened…"I trail off. _I_ had been the one trying to stop the past from haunting me. Now I'm the one trying to halt that same process in its tracks. "Erik, this is something we need to discuss right now if we want any chance together. I'm willing to fight for that; are you?"

Silence consumes us for what seems like an endless period of time, until finally Erik gathers me up in his arms and holds me tight against him. "Oh, Christine I love you so much," he says, and I take that as a yes to my question. Smiling against his chest, I let out a squeal as we topple over backwards onto the mattress. Snuggling up against him, I lie content in Erik's arms, satisfied to know that the all of the running from the past just might be over.

3


	3. To Discuss can be to Reveal

**I'm going to make this announcement early this time…if you are reading this story, I'd really appreciate your reviews, even if it's just "Great chapter!" I wasn't going to write this story, and now that I am I wish it was being received as well as its companion. So please, review! And sorry this chapter is so short…Jewelles**

_**Chapter Two – To Discuss can be to Reveal**_

_Persia 1875_

**Erik**

"_I left with Raoul because I was scared."_

Christine's words echo in my mind, getting stronger every time I think of them.

"_Scared of what? Of me?"_

"_Of everything! Of losing Raoul, of being a prisoner, of…"_

"_You would not have my prisoner!"_

"_I would've been yours by force; that is prisoner enough."_

"Erik?" Suddenly startled by the Daroga's voice, I turn quickly and find myself facing both him and Reza.

"It's nothing," I state, turning back to Nadir and Reza. "Where were we?"

"We were discussing," Reza says, sitting down and motioning for me to take a seat as well, "your and Christine's future."

"Keep your voice down!" I snap. "Do you want her to walk in and hear you?"

"Calm down, Erik," Nadir says sitting beside his son, both of them across the table from me. "Now, first order of business; how long are you going to stay here and live off of your good friend the Daroga's hospitality?"

"When you put it that way," I growl angrily, "I suppose not long." I stare menacingly at Nadir.

"All right then, you can stay as long as you like," he announces, chuckling a little. "Now, next is the topic you so love to discuss; when are you asking Christine to marry you?"

I nearly choke on air. True, I mentioned the idea of it to Antoinette in my letter just this morning, but actually acting upon it? That is completely different. "Are you out of your mind? It's none of your business if I ask her to marry me or not."

"Of course it's my business," Nadir replies, "and it's Reza's too. We care about the both of you and…"

"And if you truly cared then you wouldn't be intruding upon our personal business," my voice is harsh as I stand and lean across the table, hands firmly upon the tabletop, staring at the two men before me.

"Sit down, Erik," Reza says. "As my father said, we want the best for you both, but we won't force anything upon you." I sit back down and recline slightly in my chair. "That being said, it might be wise to check if you have the money you'd want to buy a ring worthy of…"

"Worthy of whom?" I see Reza startle as Christine's voice fills the room, angelic as ever. I can sense her presence behind me, and Lalitha and Lakhi too, but I continue to stare at Reza, hoping above all else that he'll keep quiet.

Turning around to face Christine, I say, "Nobody you know; it's a gift for one of Nadir's close friends." I avert my gaze to Nadir, making sure that he doesn't disagree with my lie, and I see him nod in agreement; thank God for small miracles.

Christine's hands rest on my shoulders and she stands behind me, saying, "Well, don't let us keep you." She leans down and presses a soft kiss to my cheek before walking off with Lalitha and Lakhi.

I see Nadir suppressing laughter across the table and snap, "Oh, be quiet, will you?"

**Christine**

"_I had hoped that it would not be by force that you would stay with me."_

"_But it was! You were threatening an innocent man's life unless I chose you! How could that not be imprisonment if I'd chosen you then? Needless to say, I was terrified of what would happen, whatever choice I made!"_

"_I surmise you've never been put in my position, Christine!"_

"_What position? Did I not have problems too? I still do! How dare you say I don't?"_

"Christine? Christine!" Turning my head abruptly, I see Lalitha and Lakhi staring at me across the table on the deck.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, playing with the fabric of my skirt. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the sisters stare at each other questioningly, then turn on me.

"Has he asked you yet?" Lakhi questions me. I look up from my skirt.

"Asked me what?" I ask her, even though I'm certain I know what she will say.

"Has Erik asked you to marry him yet?" Lalitha continues her sister's question.

"Marry him?" the words seem to burn my mouth as they go out. _Marriage_. The thought of it…can ever go back? Marriage was what he'd wanted so many years ago. Marriage was what kept me away. Marriage was what I had with Raoul, may he rest in peace. Just one word, one union of "I do" was unto me a gift and a burden.

"_I don't think that your problems are your own, Christine. You are other people's curse and their salvation, and that is your problem; you do not know where you belong."_

"_And you do?"_

"I…I couldn't…"

"Couldn't what?" It is my turn to jump with surprise at being interrupted, as I'd interrupted Reza earlier. I look to the entry onto the deck and see Erik leaning against the doorframe. As suddenly as he'd appeared Lalitha and Lakhi have gone off, running past Erik into the house. Both pairs of eyes, his and mine, watch them, and then catch each other. "May I?" he says, stepping down onto the deck and motioning to the space on the bench beside me. I nod and shift over, giving him room. After Erik sits, we remain in uncomfortable silence.

"_Don't start with me, Christine! Don't talk about what you don't understand!"_

"_I understand perfectly well, Erik. I walked in on Antoinette telling Meg everything about you; I'm not unknowing."_

Unexpectedly to him, I throw myself into Erik's arms, clutching his shoulders, crying against his neck. "Oh, Erik, I'm so sorry about yesterday. I apologize for everything." Erik wraps his arms comfortingly around my small form.

"There is nothing to apologize for, _mon amour._ We were both distraught; you have no reason to give me your apology. But, if it makes you feel better, I offer you my own to reciprocate." I feel him kiss my temple, stroking my hair, holding me until I finally calm down. "Now, can we discuss something for a moment?"

"Of course," I say, sliding out of his lap and onto the bench beside him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," Erik responds. "We have to decide when we will leave Nadir's home. He has told me that he is in no rush to see us leave, but it is best we leave in the next few weeks before it grows too hot."

"In that case, I concur," I say, nodding in Erik's direction. "When do you propose we leave?" _Propose_. A little shiver runs down my spine as I say the word with so many connotations, both relevant and irrelevant.

"That," he says, standing and extending a hand to me, "we will decide later. For now we might like to take advantage of the lovely meal Nadir is setting out for us." I place my hand in Erik's and walk with him back into the house, nervous but at the same time content, as the sun begins to set behind me.

3


	4. A Little Illumination

**Thank you to my readers who are beginning to return to me from _Dried-Up Roses_…your reviews are welcomed and adored. However…**

**I am currently on 17 Story Alert lists with _Global Desire_, and yet I've received reviews from just over half of that. This is not just about my story, but in general; if you put a story on your Alert List, you want to read it and be updated. Authors want to know that you appreciate them, and not just their story, so give a little love. :-) **

**Enjoy…this is a GREAT chapter by my standards!**

**NSL Jewelles**

_**Chapter Three – A Little Illumination**_

_Persia 1875_

The second we are back in the house, Erik has me up against a wall, kissing me senseless. I squirm against him, alarmed but willing. Erik's tongue plunders my mouth, hot and demanding, and I lock my hands around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

As quickly as it had all begun, it has stopped, and Erik lowers me onto my feet as I see Reza coming towards us. I straighten my skirt out as he walks past, and I think that I can hear him sniggering. Erik's hand finds mine once again. "Come," he says, leading me into the sitting room.

I am barely across the threshold into the room when I stop dead in my tracks, gasping. The sitting room is usually home to a few chairs and a couch, as well as a low table, but tonight…

"Oh, Erik, it's beautiful," I say breathily. The seating and the table have been moved to the back wall of the room, and set out by the window is an ornately carved table and two matching chairs. Upon the table there are two place settings, illuminated by a few candles set in a spectacular candelabra brushed with gold.

I follow Erik like a blind child, dumbfounded as he leads me over to the table and pulls out a chair for me. Once I sit, he sits across from me and sees me staring at him across the table. "Surprised, are we?" he says, trying to hold back a grin that I have rarely seen on him.

"I'm…shocked," I admit, blushing. "I…"

But I am interrupted by Nadir's voice as he comes up by the table. "Good evening, Mademoiselle Daaé, Monsieur Garnier," he says formally, pronouncing the French as best he can and bowing. "We have a wonderful meal set out for you tonight, prepared by the wonderful in-house chef, Reza Khan, and his lovely assistants. To start off the meal, a little wine?" He produces a wine bottle seemingly out of nowhere and proceeds to pour a little into each of two glasses, the red alcohol tinting the clear glass. "I will return shortly. Enjoy," he says, bowing himself out of the room.

Erik takes his wine glass and raises it, and I follow suit. "To you," he states, tilting the glass in my direction.

"To us," I add, touching my glass to his. As we both drink the fruity liquid, I take a chance to just look at Erik from across the table. His white half-mask catches the light of the candles, nearly glowing. I place the glass back on the table and take to looking out the window. It is already dark on this side of the house, the dusty road leading into the town tinged blue with moonlight.

My musings are interrupted by a pretty feminine voice I know as Lakhi's. "Good evening! Some soup?" I see a tray in her hands, two bowls on it, and I nod. Lakhi places the tray on the table and removes the soup bowls, steaming liquid inside, presenting one to each of us at the table. "Enjoy; I will be back shortly."

We eat in silence, every few spoonfuls of soup glancing at the person across the table. I don't mind the quiet; it is not awkward, but soothing. It is in the midst of these thoughts that I drop my spoon, the metal making a sharp noise on the floor. I bend over to retrieve it but Erik is quicker, kneeling beside my chair.

Erik lifts the spoon from the floor and wipes it on a napkin before dipping it into the soup and holding it to my lips. I oblige, taking the cool metal and hot liquid into my mouth. Again he feeds me, but this time a bit drips off as it leaves my mouth. I try to catch it with my upper lip before it rolls off of the bottom one, but Erik is, once again, much faster.

Before the soup droplet can slip from my mouth, Erik has caught my lips with his own, sucking gently on my lower lip. I lean into him, but he pulls away, standing and returning to his seat. I follow him with my eyes as he sits in his chair and replaces his napkin on his lap, lifting his gaze and smiling at me from across the table. All of this, and not a word; as I said, silence can sometimes be a gift.

The meal commences, the soup followed by an exquisite entrée of roasted lamb and vegetables, all in an unusual but nonetheless tasty sauce, presented by Reza, who is surprisingly a wonderful chef. As he takes leave of the room, I see Lalitha waiting timidly by the door, and Reza grabs her by the arm and pulls her away with him. I smile.

"They really are getting to like each other, aren't they?" I mention to Erik as I cut into the lamb on my plate.

"His father is certainly pleased," Erik replies, taking a bite of his own supper. "He hopes that they will eventually be married." The piece of lamb I am chewing seems to lodge in my throat, and I cough on it until it is free.

Swallowing, I say timidly, "Really?" How can he be so calm and collected? _Maybe he hasn't thought about marriage, not even considered it._ Forcing thoughts from my mind, I continue, "That's wonderful. But what will we do with Lakhi? It is truly unfair that her sister and I have both found for ourselves but not for her."

"You would say that you found me?" he interrupts me, looking up from his meal. "Was it not I who found you?"

"It is a figure of speech," I remind him, concentrating on my food. "I would not dream of saying that this was entirely my doing when it was yours."

"Thank you," he says, hints of sarcasm in his voice as he raises his glass to me and takes a drink. I truly cannot argue against his comment, that he had found me and not I him. Without his devotion to finding me, I would be giving my body to other men for money.

I continue to eat, but the thought of what I had done, and probably would do, in the harem at Sardes brings tears to my eyes, one of them trickling down my cheek. Erik doesn't seem to notice, so I brush it away nonchalantly, trying to avert my thoughts to something else.

Moments later, I sense another presence in the room and turn to see Nadir. "My lord and lady," he says formally, "a little entertainment while you dine." He bows himself out and I see Lakhi walk in with an instrument, a sitar, and sit down on a chair in the middle of the room. She begins to play a subdued by nonetheless fast and upbeat tune.

As she plays, Lalitha and Reza enter hand in hand. Reza takes a seat, while Lalitha bows to us and begins to dance. I had seen her dance many times before during my time at the harem, but I have almost forgotten how talented she is at the art. Bright scarf in hand, she winds her way around the room, twisting and leaping. I suddenly catch Lakhi's eye, and she winks at me, though I do not know what for.

I soon find out; the music she is playing suddenly changes to a slower melody, and Lalitha stops abruptly, staring at her sister. "Lakhi, what're you…" but she is cut off by Reza.

"Dance with me, Lalitha," he says, bowing to her. I cannot help but giggle slightly as Lalitha rolls her eyes, tosses her scarf to her sister, and lets herself be taken in Reza's arms. Turning back to my food, I see Erik staring at me from across the table.

"Is something wrong?" I ask, taking a sip of wine.

"You know perfectly well what is wrong," he states, standing.

"I don't think I do," I reply as he moves around the table to me, taking my hand.

"You are not dancing with me," Erik continues, pulling me up from my chair and into his arms, but I push away.

"Just a moment," I assure Erik, walking over to where Lakhi sits and plays. "Lakhi?"

"Christine," she says softly, "dance with him. For me." I look into her face and can't help but see the subtle sadness.

"Lakhi, you're the only one here with no one to be with; I am worried for you." Though she continues to play, I can see that she is choking up. "Lakhi, tell me you're all right."

"I am fine, Christine," she says, though her voice is muffled. "I was just thinking of…oh, never mind."

"What?" I inquire, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Lakhi, please tell me." Lakhi does not answer immediately, keeping up with the music.

Finally, she responds. "Christine, stay with us tonight? My sister and I can talk to you then."

I nod and stand up, ready to walk back to Erik, when I pause and say to her, "You're very talented." As I return to Erik, I see Lakhi watching me, smiling gently.

**Later…**

Closing the door behind me, I walk to my bed in Lalitha and Lakhi's room and sit upon the mattress, waiting for them to return from the washroom. _What could they possibly have to tell me in private? Certainly nothing is wrong…_

My thoughts are cut short as the door opens and the two sisters walk in, shutting it once again. I shift over and they sit on the bed beside me, looking at one another questioningly. I break the silence. "What's wrong? What is it that you have to tell me?"

"Well," Lakhi starts, but her sister stops her.

"Let me start," Lalitha says, and Lakhi nods. "It was so long ago; I can barely remember how it began. We were young, maybe twelve and fourteen, when we first went to the sea. It was a long, hard journey, of course, but we made it, the two of us, our brother Mohammed, who was younger, and our parents. It was such a sight, the endless miles of water and waves.

"Only being there for a week, the two of us set to exploring with Mohammed, winding our way along the seashore, seeking adventure, finding it in spots all along the coast."

Lakhi interrupts, "I'll continue. It was on our last day by the sea when Mohammed decided that he wanted to see some of the sea creatures. We asked permission of our parents, of course, and went down to one of the coves along the shore where there was sure to be some wildlife. Upon reaching the cove, Mohammed jumped in, splashing and playing.

"We watched him play in the water with the fish for what seemed like hours, talking in short stints. It started to get dark, so we told Mohammed to get out of the water, which he did, but as he stepped up onto the shore, he tripped and fell back in."

"I panicked," Lalitha says. "I was the oldest and it was my job to protect both Lakhi and Mohammed, but I froze up, just shrieking. Lakhi ran back to the water to try and help him out, but he hadn't resurfaced yet."

"But then…it must've been some miracle by which it happened. A young man, probably a year or two Lalitha's elder, must've heard her shouts and came running. He saw me kneeling over the water and must have known that something was wrong, because he dove right in after whatever he thought it was. And when he came up with Mohammed in his arms…" Lakhi trails off.

"I immediately got him home to our parents and left Lakhi to thank the man. I needed to be away from that cove; I felt like it was the one place where I'd failed as the oldest child and guardian of my siblings." Lakhi places a tender hand on Lalitha's shoulder, and I just watch, taking it all in.

"The man told me his name was Abraham, and that he worked with his father fishing on the ocean," Lakhi relays. "He said how he'd seen us walk to the cove earlier, and when he heard Lalitha's cries and came to the sound, he knew it must've been the little boy. After he told me, he offered to walk me home since it was darker still, and I let him, telling him my name and how thankful we really were."

"When she came into the house," Lalitha says, starting to laugh, "I could see it in her eyes. She was madly in…"

"Stop!" Lakhi says, playfully whacking her sister on the arm, but Lalitha continues to chuckle. "I guess I was infatuated with Abraham from the moment he saved Mohammed's life, but I was twelve and he was at least seventeen; what man that age would love a girl like me back?" I keep quiet, trying to avoid thinking how like my own romance with Raoul Lakhi's story is. _Raoul…_ I force images of my dead husband's face from my mind, concentrating on Lakhi.

"But he did," Lalitha says. "We were leaving the following morning and he saw us preparing to go. He came up to her as we were getting into our father's cart and gave her a beautiful flower, telling her to come back some day."

"We did," Lakhi adds, blushing, "just the next year. I don't think he recognized me when I went down to the docks where I knew his father's boat was; I had grown up so much in that year. But I'd kept the flower, dried it and stowed it away, so when I showed it to him he knew it was me, the little girl whose brother he'd saved but a year before."

"You were simply lovesick the whole week," Lalitha laughs, poking fun at Lakhi, "but he was so nice and our parents loved him. But then…" Lalitha trails off.

"But then what?" I inquire, fearing what they'll tell me.

Lalitha opens her mouth to speak, but Lakhi says first, "I can tell. The two of us were walking around the little fishing town right by the shore when he first kissed me. It was my first…and his last. But minutes after, when we were on one of the main streets, some other young men pushed him away from me. I found out later that they were the sons of rival fishermen to Abraham's father, but it didn't matter then. They began abusing him, kicking him and punching wildly. I couldn't do anything; what was a girl of thirteen to do against men of near twenty?

"They finally let up and ran off, and I hurried to Abraham, but there…there wasn't anything I-I-I c-could've d-done," she stutters, tears welling up in her eyes. "He was so hurt and I-I couldn't d-d-drag him anywhere. There wasn't anyone around and he c-c-couldn't t-talk at all, so I-I w-watched him bleed t-to death." Lalitha takes her sister in her arms and holds her against her chest.

"Ever since then it's been hard," Lalitha states quietly. "I had my fair share of romances, but Lakhi would never go out, would simply settle for being happy for me. When we were eighteen and sixteen, a good three years after what happened to Abraham, a huge fire destroyed our house. It took not only our house, but our parents and Mohammed too."

"He was my last memory of Abraham," Lakhi admits. "Mohammed was what brought us together and when he was gone there was no reminder."

"What of the flower?" I ask of the gift Lakhi had been given.

Lalitha bursts out laughing. "Oh, Abraham took that." Lakhi's eyes go wide and she practically assaults her sister. "Stop! I'm only telling her the truth!" I bring Lakhi towards me, holding her like her sister had been. "The one he'd given to her when we left the first year, you mean?" I nod.

"It was lost in the fire too," Lakhi says, sniffling.

"What happened after the fire?" Asking so many questions makes me feel slightly bad, for I am seemingly dragging out a subject I would not wish to talk about if I were Lakhi. _Of course, you wouldn't want to talk about it! You're not talking about Raoul_.

"There was nowhere for us to go, really," Lalitha says, "so we just started walking."

"That's where Indira found us," Lakhi continues, "just like she found you."

6


	5. What Has and Will Come to Pass

**I am now on 20 alert lists…it means you must like reading the story if you want to be alerted for updates so…REVIEW! (I don't want to sound mean, and I understand that we all have lives so we can't always review, but just drop me a note on one of the chapters…it makes me feel appreciated, like I should continue to post here.)**

**NSL Jewelles**

_**Chapter Four – What has and will come to Pass**_

_Persia 1875_

**Erik**

"If it satisfies you, Daroga, I'll buy a goddamn ring!" I growl at Nadir. We stand at the side of a bustling street at a jewelry cart. For near a quarter of an hour we have been arguing over the purchasing of a ring for Christine. "That's not to say that I'll give it to her immediately, so don't get any ideas." The Daroga shrugs jokingly. I scan the rows of rings, trying to find one that stands out; exceptional beauty deserves an equally beautiful gem. Muttering curses to myself, I point out one that looks intriguing and the vendor pulls it from its case.

"The diamond is just over a carat, as are the rubies combined," he says, placing the cool metal and stone in my palm. "The gold is the highest quality available." I pinch the metal band in my fingers and hold it up to my eye level. It is truly exquisite, a perfect diamond solitaire surrounded by four blood red rubies. Images invade my mind of Christine, the ring brilliantly sparkling on her finger and a perfect smile on her face.

"This is the one," I state, handing the ring to the vendor to package.

"No," Nadir says, placing a hand on my arm. "_She_ is the one," and I know who he is referring to.

**Christine**

"Christine! Are you coming or not?" I hear Erik's voice from down the stairs as I grab my last few belongings and hurry to meet him. "Christine, I can't wait all…" but I appear at the top of the stairs and he stops talking immediately. Nadir, Reza, Lalitha and Lakhi all wait by the door to see us out, and I can't help but feel like I miss them already.

I reach the lower landing and Erik takes one of my bags from me, his hand brushing mine as he grips the handle. "I'm sorry I took so long," I apologize, but Erik motions to the others, a silent reminder to say my farewells.

Gently I embrace the Daroga, thanking him kindly for his hospitality and care. I move away and Reza lifts me up in his arms and holds me tightly. "I will miss you, Christine," he says sadly, kissing my forehead. "Promise to write?" he adds, placing me on the ground.

"Of course," I reply, gripping his arm amicably as Erik and Nadir embrace; I can hear them conversing in hushed tones, though I cannot even begin to imagine what they could be discussing.

Throwing myself frantically into Lalitha and Lakhi's conjoined embrace, the three of us becoming a weepy mass of limbs. "Christine, please don't go," one of them whimpers. "We'll miss you too much!" another voice says. I feel Erik's hand on my shoulder, silently telling me that it's time.

Pulling away from Lalitha and Lakhi, I kiss them each on the cheek before picking up one of my bags; Erik has his and my second. "I'll never forget any of you," I say, then revise my statement. "_We_ won't forget any of you." I look up at Erik and he nods in agreement.

"We will see each other again," Reza says comfortingly, and the foursome ushers us out the door with well-wishes and teary farewells.

"Good luck, my friends," Nadir adds, placing an arm around his son's shoulders. "Our hearts are with you." Erik and I walk slowly away from the house, loading our bags into the cart Erik and Nadir have purchased. I turn and look up into Erik's eyes and he smiles at me, as if to tell me that everything will work out for the better. Smiling back, I feel him take my hand, helping me up onto the seat of the cart before walking around to the other site and stepping up himself, taking his place at my side.

I wave to the four figures in the doorway as Erik jerks the reins to make the horse pulling the cart move. Tears well up in my eyes as we begin to drive away, and I rest my body against Erik's, my head on his shoulder. "You're all right?" he asks me.

"I will be," I murmur, pressing closer still. "But I'm anxious too."

"You and me both," Erik replies, turning to kiss the top of my head gently. As we drive away, I glance backward and see the door closing, no figures remaining outdoors. _Think of what awaits you! This is a new start, and this time it is for the better. You and Erik have each other; nothing could possibly be that awful now._ I once again think about Lalitha and Lakhi's questions about the status of my relationship with Erik, and I find myself wondering if something like marriage will come to pass. Surely Erik is not interested in married life? But if he is…

**Erik**

We stop the first evening at a little inn, a small but cheery establishment. As I arrange for a room, Christine busies herself with a street vendor, purchasing some provisions and a few extra foods for us to eat for dinner. We meet at the entrance to the corridor leading to our room and she locks her free arm around mine. "Our room is ready?"

"Only just," I say as a set of two maids walk past us from the hall, dirty towels and brooms in their hands. "Come." We walk along the darkened hallway, gently illuminated by the light of a few small candles. Upon reaching the room, Christine takes the key and turns it in the lock, opening the door and moving inside to allow me in.

Dropping our bags just past the door, I close it behind me and walk in after Christine. I catch sight of her standing by the window, looking out onto the night. My feet make soft sounds on the floor as I move to her, wrapping my arms around her and holding her back against my chest. "The stars remind me of Paris," Christine says with a sigh, leaning into me. "It's the only other place where I've seen them all spread out so perfectly." I hear her sniffle and turn her around in my arms to see her crying.

"Christine, if you want to go back…"

"No," she interjects, putting a finger to my lips. "I want to see the world. I want to see the world with you, Erik, and maybe, one day, we will go home." Christine leans up and presses a gentle kiss to my lips. "We should eat, no?" I nod and we turn to the food, sitting down upon the bed to eat.

**Later…**

It is late in the evening, the moon high above and the sky black as pitch. Christine sleeps soundly beside me, her body inches away from mine, her face towards me. I watch her as she sleeps, her lips slightly parted, her eyes shut gently and her chest rising and falling when she breathes. Her hair is around her like a curled, dark halo and her hands rest entangled by her head. I cannot help but smile at the sight of her near me; it astounds me that such a heavenly creature should be mine!

And mine she will be with time, I can hope. As I look upon her, I remember the first night we were truly a couple, how she lay sleeping against me, her body close to mine as she slept in the aftermath of her confrontation with her fears of men. I think on how close we were to being together in the most intimate ways, in ways I have yet to experience myself though I am not unfamiliar with them. I know that I could have taken her, that she would not have resisted, but to do that to my angel, to bring back such horrid memories of the man who violated her in such a cruel way?

Looking upon her now and thinking on the past, I feel my body shiver with desire; Christine has not been so close to me since that night and I cannot help but will it that she will awaken so we may explore one another, join ourselves as any couple would. Though I know that it is still hard for her to think of intimacy, my body abandons me, passion and desire flooding my veins for the woman beside me.

_No. Honor Christine and go to sleep._ I roll over, facing away from Christine and closing my eyes. _In time. In time._ My body still painfully tense with longing, I fall into a fitful sleep, plagued with images of deep brown eyes and hair and porcelain skin.

3


	6. Falling for Ghosts

**REVIEW!**

**NSL Jewelles**

_**Chapter Five – Falling for Ghosts**_

_Istanbul 1875_

**Erik**

Across the dinner table, I watch Christine eat calmly but steadily, her face the only part of her showing out of the traditional garb, her hair and body covered in elaborate fabric. I, myself, am not much better, though one can actually distinguish my body shape through the costume. Suddenly, Christine drops her fork, seemingly accidentally.

"Darling, are you all right?" I ask her as she lifts it and wipes it on her napkin. I reach across the table for her but she stops me with her eyes; propriety is so much more of a concern here than in Europe.

"I'm fine," she responds curtly, returning to her meal and I to mine. We eat in silence for another few minutes until her voice comes to me, "Erik, what day is it?"

"It's Thursday," I answer quickly, surprised at such a question, but she stares at me. "May tenth," I continue, and see her eyes go wide. "Why, is something wrong?" She fervently shakes her head, concentrating on her dinner. Ignoring what is and isn't proper, I take her hand. "Christine, something must be wrong or you wouldn't be acting so skittish."

Pulling her hand away, Christine responds coldly, "I am _not_ acting skittish," but in her eyes there is something else, something that must be revealed, a look that seems to break my heart in two. Dropping a few notes of money on the table, I grab Christine by the hand and practically drag her outside. "Erik, what is this about?"

"You're not telling me something, Christine," I state, placing a hand on her cheek. "I thought that we agreed that we wouldn't keep secrets?" She nods. "Now tell me what's bothering you." First she looks away, but I press against her cheek, turning her towards me again. Her eyes flick upward, the brown orbs boring into my green ones. At long last, she speaks.

"Let us go to our apartment," she says meekly, taking my hand and leading me down the street and into the apartment we've rented. Once inside, she removes her head covering and places it on a small table before turning back to me. "You said it was May the tenth?" I nod, reaching out for Christine and enclosing her hands in mine. She bites her lip, tears welling in her eyes. "It was one year ago today," she whimpers, pulling away and running to the bed, throwing herself upon it and weeping uncontrollably. I hurry to her side and gather her in my arms, almost feeling all of the pain seeping into me, wondering what she could possibly mean…

**One year ago…**

"_Madame de Chagny?" The doctor came out of the bedroom, his face pasty and his eyes sullen. Christine turned abruptly from her seat at the table and raced towards the man in the doorway._

"_Yes?" her voice shook almost uncontrollably and she fought to maintain her composure. The doctor's stance was rigid and Christine placed a hand on his arm. "Whatever it is, you must tell me."_

"_Madame, I can only offer my sincerest apologies," the doctor said firmly. Christine backed away, covering her mouth with her hand._

"_You don't mean…"_

"_Of course not, Madame. Your husband is as alive as he was this morn, but the circumstances…they do not look good, Madame." Christine's eyes shot up to meet the doctor's. "He is very weak, Madame; the disease has been attacking him for far too long for us to do anything."_

"_There is…nothing you can do?" she asked, advancing towards the doctor. "There is not another option?" The doctor shook his head. "So you are telling me that I must simply wait for my husband to die?" she snapped, turning away again._

"_If I may be frank, there is no other way to put it," he replied, agreeing with her and sending shivers up her spine. "I am truly sorry, Madame. If there was another way we would have tried." The doctor placed a comforting hand on Christine's arm and continued, "You may see him now. He is in good health now, but I would use your moments preciously."_

_Christine whirled round. "How long?" she murmured, her voice hoarse._

"_If he lives past New Year I would be astonished," the doctor said, lifting his supplies from the floor and heading for the door of the manor. Christine pursued him, walking quickly._

"_Not seven months?" As the doctor stepped outside he merely shook his head and then the door shut._

**Christine**

"It all began one year ago," I say meekly, comforted in Erik's warm embrace. "They diagnosed him with a weakening disease in a highly developed stage; he was gone by autumn." I bury my face in Erik's shoulder, starting to cry again. _Why are you telling him? Why should he care?_ "I'm sorry," I say suddenly, sitting up and pulling away. "I don't know why I'm even telling you this when you don't care!" Standing from the bed, I walk off towards the window and stare outside, my lip quivering.

I hear Erik's long sigh and his footsteps as he walks towards me. "What makes you think that I don't care?" he says comfortingly, placing his hands on my shoulders. I whirl round, staring at him.

"You hated him!" I snap, my face flushed both from crying and from anger. "You hated him and you didn't even care that he died! I bet you were happy! You have no idea what I went through!" Rage flooding over, I walk quickly and purposefully towards the washroom, intent on staying away from Erik to clear my head, but he grabs my arm and pulls me towards him.

"Of course I 'have an idea', Christine! I lost my love too!" Although I turn to look at him, he shoves me away in the direction of the washroom, and I stumble inside, shutting the door behind me. I slide down against the door, crying into my hands, barely able to think.

The fights have grown more numerous, this I cannot deny. It used to be over petty things like what side of the bed to sleep on or what mask to wear, but it has steadily become less trivial. And now…I had hoped that Raoul's sickness and passing would not come up, that I wouldn't have to deal with it this early in my relationship with Erik, but I have guessed wrongly.

Struggling up from the floor, I suddenly fall silent, pressing my ear to the door. From the room I hear…crying. I stumble away from the door as if I've been burned. _He does love you, Christine. Don't let him go._ Biting my lip, I turn to the tub. _Ah yes, a bath._

**Erik**

I do not know what to think any more, and I most certainly have no idea what to make of the recent situation. There is nothing I can do but wait for her to talk to me; my retaliation about losing love was clearly too much and too forward.

Sinking onto the bed, I hear running water from the washroom. Thinking on it, I know that a bath will do Christine good, and the time she takes will help me to clear my mind. I stand again, heading for the desk and I sit down, drawing a piece of paper from the drawer, along with quill and ink, and beginning to write. I have not written to Christine in months, it seems, and, though I can share most things with her now, it is almost cathartic to write them in private.

I have only a sentence or two written when I hear strains of music coming from the bathroom. "_Past the point of no return, the final threshold! What warm unspoken secrets will we learn beyond the point of no return?_" Surprising as it is to hear Christine's voice, I barely notice that I have dropped the quill, inky splotches appearing on the paper. Her voice…it has matured since I last heard her, its intonations still high and pure but now sensual, provocative and utterly womanly.

"_You have brought me to that moment when words run dry, to that moment when speech disappears into silence…silence…_"My heart rate increases dramatically as I stand up to walk towards the washroom, hoping to hear more. After a few paces, however, I stop and turn back, my body responding to the sensuality of her voice. I lean against the bedpost and say firmly and through gritted teeth, "Christine, darling, you're going to have to stop that."

"Why?" she calls back, clearly unaware of my pained and aroused condition.

"Just stop," I shout, my breathing labored as I try to keep the desire flooding me from going any further. "I beg of you."

"I'm singing in the bathtub, Erik," she says calmly, and I hear the water sloshing around, making me even more aware of her body, unclothed and open to the hot water; spots appear before my eyes and I clench my jaw, trying not to think about Christine. "Everyone does that, and so do I."

I nearly lose control as she sings again. "_I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why! In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent._" The spots get brighter, and I try to take deep, calming breaths, shutting out all thought of the woman in the washroom and the voice in the air. "_Now I am here with you, no second thoughts. I've decided…decided…_"

Standing up, trying to maintain composure, I take another deep breath, thinking she has stopped. I move as if to take a step back towards the desk when I fell a small, warm hand on my neck from behind. "_Past the point of no return…_"

**The authoress shifts her eyes and doesn't promise anything. :-)**

4


	7. By Moonlight

**You have begged. You have complained. You have Punjabbed (Talia!). You have cried. You have suggested that you may die if I don't do it. Well, here it is. I know, you may be saying, "Jewelles? Writing a sex scene?" Yes. Jewelles is writing a sex scene. :-)**

**Enjoy, and PLEASE REVIEW!**

**Love,**

**NSL Jewelles**

_**Chapter Six – By Moonlight**_

_Istanbul 1875_

I have known from the moment that Erik called to me from the room that I am playing with fire. The way his voice shakes, the sounds of harsh breathing, they all alert me that I am torturing him with my voice more than any other soul can with the world's greatest weapons of torture. All of this I know…and I like it. Nay, I love it. To think, the infamous Phantom of the Opera humbled at the voice of a small thing like me.

"_Past the point of no return,_" I whisper in his ear, pulling him to me, one hand upon his neck and the other gripping his arm, "_no going back now! Our passion play has now at last begun!_" The words of the song sink into me, resonating within the both of us as I press my damp, bare body against Erik's back. I can sense that he is trying not to give in to me, but his soft groan tells me that it is otherwise.

"_Past all thought of right or wrong, one final question!_" I continue, moving my hands tantalizingly down Erik's arms, taking his wrists and holding them behind his back, clasping my small fingers firmly around them. Taking a deep breath, I continue singing as I begin to pull Erik backwards with me. "_How long should we two wait before we're one?_"

It is somewhat surprising, and yet not at all, when Erik complies and walks back with me as I lead him towards the washroom, trying not to trip myself up. "_When will the blood begin to race, the sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames at last consume us?_" I practically shout the last part as Erik whirls around, breaking free of my hands. In a moment I feel my back hit the wall of the room, Erik's hands under my arms dragging me upwards, his body pressed solidly against my own.

Breathing heavily, I do not continue to sing just yet, watching Erik's face as his eyes travel my body as they did that night back in Persia. This time, however, his hands join them. He presses his lips hotly against mine, coaxing my mouth open and plundering it with his tongue as he traces his warm, large hands down neck to my shoulders and arms. I feel his hands take mine, pulling my arms up and around his neck. I comply willingly, pressing my body closer, hooking my ankles around the backs of Erik's thighs.

"_Past the point of no return,_" he growls against my mouth, his voice full of raw sexuality and need as his hands grip my waist, smoothing up and down my back, occasionally dipping forward to touch my breasts, "_the final threshold! The bridge is crossed…_"

"_So stand and watch it burn!_" I add, drawing Erik closer still with my hands and legs. I pull my lips away from his and trail kisses all over his face and neck, pushing his mask off as I go, and he does not even flinch. Finally, I move away, leaning back against the wall and murmuring, "_We've passed the point of no return._"

I feel my feet hit the ground as I am enveloped in Erik's embrace, my body snug against his, his arms around my back like large steel bands, unmoving. "Oh Christine," he moans, pressing against me, giving me time to notice his aroused state. "Oh Christine," he says again, swooping down to kiss me once again, this time less forceful but, if it is possible, even more passionate.

Silently, I take his hand in my much smaller one and lead him towards my original destination of the washroom. As we walk through the doorway, Erik closes it behind us and I head for the tub, still full of steamy water. My hands skate down Erik's sides, gripping his shirt and pulling it from his pants; it is quite a relief that he has removed all of the other, extravagant garments he'd been wearing, and he is now only in pants and a shirt. Well, now simply pants as I drag the soft linen over his head and toss it aside.

Continuing to move backward towards the tub, I take the laces on Erik's pants, untying them as we walk. His feet, I see, are bare, another welcome relief. When I finish with the laces, I feel the backs of my knees hit the rim of the tub, and I carefully step over the edge and into the hot water, sinking down into it. The tub is quite large and deep, nearly large enough for me to lie down fully, and I do, wallowing in the water as Erik removes his pants, throwing them into a pile with his shirt.

Erik then climbs over the rim of the tub and into the steamy water, wading on his knees over to me at the opposite side. I pull myself up against the back edge of the tub, reclining against it when he reaches me, and I extend my arms to him, taking his hands with mine and pulling him up to meet me. He catches my eye for a moment before bending over and capturing my lips with his own, his hands moving of their own accord to cradle my back. "You are so beautiful," he murmurs, kissing me again as his hands explore my body, down as far as my knees and up into my hair.

Throwing my weight against him, I flip Erik over onto his back, never breaking the intimate contact of our lips. I lie to his side, hands on his shoulders, lips on his as his hands move across the slick, wet skin of my body, sending shivers up and down my spine. Even in the water I can feel heat pooling at the apex of my thighs, skin tingling almost uncontrollably.

I lift my head from his, tracing a hand along his perfect cheek. "Christine, this is wrong." My face contorts in confusion as he continues. "We're in a bathtub! You expect me to make love to you here?"

A little chuckle bubbles from my mouth and I bury my face against Erik's chest. "You wish to be somewhere else?"

"Very much," he replies, rising to his feet and stepping from the tub. I follow suit and I am no sooner on my feet than I am whisked up in his arms, one on my back and the other beneath my knees.

Erik turns to walk out of the washroom when I speak, "A towel?" I look into Erik's perfect gray-green eyes, questioning him.

"No," his voice is short but husky as well, another reminder to me of his wanting. I do not argue, realizing that it will be perfectly useless, as Erik carries me through the apartment to our bed, lying me down upon the comforter and then coming to rest beside me. Moonlight from the uncovered window spills down upon us, sparkling in Erik's eyes and surely in mine as well. But there is something else in his eyes as he looks upon me, not just the moonlight. There is happiness. There is bliss. There is a look of pure and utter tranquility, and for this I am eternally thankful. One year ago, I was not the only one in misery, and now I am not the only one whose wounds have begun to heal.

Erik's head dips down to mine, pressing a chaste kiss on my mouth before rewarding the burning, damp skin of my face, neck and shoulders. His lips gently kiss and suck at the flushed, sensitive skin of my breasts and I let out a cry in – what other word is there? – ecstasy. I cannot stop myself from emitting soft mewing sounds as Erik continues his ministrations on my chest, nor can I keep my fingers from entangling themselves in Erik's hair, natural and fake, holding him against me.

However, I am forced to let go when his head descends even lower, his lips caressing the smooth flesh of my abdomen. I can almost feel him smile against me as his mouth moves even lower down, and I feel a deep burning in the pit of my stomach, a combination of anxiety and lust. Erik's fingers are like a vice on my hips, holding me down as his lips come into gentle contact with the dark thatch of curls hiding my most womanly secret.

It is all I can do not to fully shriek, squirming against Erik's mouth and hands. "Wh-wh-what are you doing?" I stutter, my whole body shaking. Erik ignores me altogether and moves his head and lips even lower, moving my legs apart as he does. I open my mouth to speak when waves of sheer and utter pleasure course through my veins, damp heat collecting between my thighs. I bite my lip, trying not to cry out, but I emit soft moans nonetheless. It feels as though I am begging for something, and I find I am. "Erik, please stop," I whimper, even though I'm unsure why exactly I want him to stop, because I don't. "Please!"

"No, mademoiselle," he says seductively, pressing another kiss against me. "You've had your turn with that voice of yours; now it is mine." But not a moment later he rises from between my legs, wiping his mouth discreetly on his arm. Erik moves himself up beside me, his body flush against mine as he kisses me softly.

"Why did you stop?" I whine, pressing closer and feeling the hardness of his manhood against my leg.

Erik lets out a low laugh and replies, "First you want me stop and now you want me to continue?" Kissing me again, he shifts slightly, his form half covering my own.

Blushing profusely, I admit, "I'm not entirely sure what I want and what I don't." I expect Erik to laugh at me like a small, naïve child, but instead he recoils a little, moving away. "What's wrong?" I ask, concerned. Taking Erik in my arms, I pull him closer and tilt his head so he looks at me. "Erik?"

"Christine, I've…" I push my lips against his momentarily and then look at him, my face full of questioning. "Christine, I've…I've never done this before," he mutters, trying not to look at me. His actions tug at my conscience, his words even more so.

"Hush," I say, taking his head to my breast like a mother. "You say you have not had sex or made love to a woman?" He shakes his head against my chest and I shift my body below his, looking up into his face. "Erik, tonight I believe we may call this making love, no?" Erik nods in affirmation and I smile. "Then I have not done this either."

My whole body is tingling, begging for something unknown but necessary as Erik lifts himself up on his elbows, holding his body above mine so as not to crush me with his greater weight. I let my mouth crease in another smile as he looks upon me with veneration, warmth flooding my body from both desire and from joy. Natural instinct seemingly takes over, my legs shifting farther apart of their own accord, my ankles hooking behind Erik's legs and pulling him down on top of me, his body resting in the natural cradle of my legs.

Erik's breathing is harsh and ragged, heavy with lust that matches and exceeds my own. "Oh God, Christine," he moans, his head hanging above my chest. "Christine I…I can't. I want to be with you so badly, Christine, and I just…_can't_."

"Yes you can," I whisper soothingly, smoothing a hand down Erik's back and around in front of him. Taking a deep breath, I wrap my fingers deftly around Erik's hardened manhood, eliciting from him a primal growl. I lean back against the pillows, angling my body so I can look at Erik, eyes glazed over. Gently, I coax Erik towards me, never lessening my grip on him, positioning him over me. "Now, Erik," I beg, shifting lower and making us closer. "You cannot hurt me unless you leave me now."

I hear Erik crying before I see it, his eyes closed, tears dripping off onto my chest. He places his hands on my cheeks, pulling my face to his and taking my breath away with the most beautiful and heartfelt kiss I have ever received. "Christine, forgive me; I cannot wait."

"Don't let me keep you," I reply coyly. Erik emits a hoarse groan before shoving his weight against me, joining us in the most intimate way. A high-pitched cry escapes my lips and I arch my back against Erik's body. I close my eyes tightly, tears springing forth as I feel Erik shuddering above me. Though there is no pain, I do not remember ever feeling so, well, _stretched_ with Hamir. It certainly was more painful with him, but it was that he was hurting me. Erik is not trying to hurt me and yet it is almost uncomfortable.

I open my eyes to see Erik choking back tears, his body shaking. "Oh Christine," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper but dark and passionate. "Christine, I…"

"Do what feels right," I force out as the feelings of discomfort begin to be replaced with the most intense feelings of pleasure it has ever been my joy to experience. "I am learning with you." I see Erik's face softening, relaxing, letting instinct lead. The tingling sensation between my legs is only increased as Erik pulls away and forces himself deeper inside me with a powerful flex of his hips.

Crying out again, I lift my legs to wrap around the base of Erik's spine, clutching to him with all of my limbs. Another strong thrust from Erik sends me back farther against the pillows, my back arching, my neck hanging back. The feeling of needing something returns, more fierce than before like a raging inferno that must be put out. Instinctively I match Erik's movements with my own, pressing and moving against his hips with mine.

Erik emits a strained growl, thrusting against me and pulling me firmly to his chest. "Help me, Christine," he pants, and, though I am not sure quite what I am doing, I work harder against him and lean up to kiss him. Our lips duel on as Erik pushes me even more into an upright position, pressing so roughly against me that I know there will be bruises come tomorrow. But I don't care. I can barely think through the feelings of need and desire, that all I can do is try harder to achieve my goal, whatever that goal is.

"Christine!" Erik tears his lips from mine and shouts my name into the heavy air, pulling me so close to him I feel as though we'll be welded together from the intense heat. He thrusts into me once more before waves of pleasure hit me, starting at the base of my spine and sending jolts throughout the rest of me. Damp heat floods me as Erik pants harshly into my hair. Moaning, I use my legs to keep Erik from moving until the shockwaves subside. "Oh Christine," he cries into my hair, holding me more gently and lovingly. "Oh Christine, I love you so much."

And there we fall asleep, still entangled intimately, bare-bodied and content atop the soaking wet comforter.

5


End file.
